The very
name of Syracuse (modern Siracusa) ought to strike dread into the hearts
of any imperialist nation which, with arrogant over-confidence in the
invincibility of its world-power status, seeks to impose military might
on smaller states (G Bush, take note). The 5th century BC historian,
Thucydides records in gruelling detail the Great Expedition launched by
all-powerful Athens in 415 BC against the Sicilian colony of Syracuse,
and the humiliatingly crushing defeat on land and sea which brought an
end to Athens' golden age.
Click on map for details
Our time at Siracusa
explored the modern city which Athens had come to conquer. We camped at
the straightforwardly welcoming
Agriturist Rinauro, 4 kms south of
Siracusa, to travel by bus into what in our view was Sicily's most
attractive and historically significant city. Bus timetables and tickets
are however one of Sicily's great mysteries. You may believe there is a
bus at 10-30, but only time will tell; you may believe you can buy
tickets on the bus, but when the driver, he say 'Non', what do you do
but board anyway and hope an inspector doesn't get on. Buy enough
tickets for all your journeys at Tabacchi kiosks with signs ' Vendita
biglietti AST', and don't forget to validate them on the bus - if the machine works,
that is!
Our visit
to Siracusa was to be an evocative 'walk with Thucydides'. The bus
dropped us across the bridge on the island of Ortygia, site of the
original foundation and later medieval city; the modern development
spread onto the immediate mainland around the natural safe anchorage of the
Great Harbour. A 10 minute walk brought us up into Piazza Duomo, the
historic square surrounded by magnificent palazzi and dominated by the
over-ornate Baroque of Siracusa's Cathedral. This place has served as
holy ground for 3,000 years, having been a pre-Greek Sikel sanctuary, an
imposing Temple of Athena built in 480 BC, an early Christian basilica,
a mosque during the 9th century AD Saracen occupation, and finally
a Norman cathedral with Baroque frontage added after the 1693 earthquake.
And each era has left its visible traces. The later structures were
built around the framework of the Classical Temple of Athena, and in the
side street of Via Minerva, you see a sight to thrill even the dullest
imagination: there are the 5th century BC Doric columns built into the
outer wall of the Norman cathedral. Inside it's even more fascinating:
the Classical temple's inner cella walls had been pierced with
a
number of openings, leaving pillars of stonework, to form the
cathedral's nave, and the outer Doric colonnade, now half-engaged within
the Norman walls is clearly visible, distorted by the 1693 earthquake
showing how close the entire structure had been to collapse. Only the
frontage fell, to be replaced with the present Baroque façade which
dominates Piazza Duomo (Photo
1). We wandered happily among the narrow lanes of the medieval town,
over to the waterfront which looks out across the azure Ionian Sea
towards Italy and the Greek homeland. From here also we could look south
to the mouth of the Great Harbour which, in 413 BC, the Syracusans had
blocked with a barricade of ships, trapping the mighty Athenian armada
in the narrow confines of the bay, leading to humiliating naval defeat
and disaster for the whole expedition. It was an evocative moment,
gazing out at this moment of tragic history.
Following
Rough Guide's generally sound advice, we enjoyed a splendid value lunch at the Trattoria-Spaghetteria Do Scogghia, which boasts 'Oltre venti
modi di condire migliori spaghetti della città - specialita marinare'.
And indeed it was good, with every kind of shellfish in a piquant tomato
sauce. Back down into the town, we stood to admire the excavated remains
of the 6th century BC Temple of Apollo, the earliest Doric temple in
Sicily, with its dedicatory inscription still visible on the stylobate.
Finding the bus back out to the campsite was even more of a
challenge, particularly when the 'circolare' bus only passed our turning
after a tour of the local villages. It had been a glorious first day in
the city, full of interest.
The
following day was plagued by rain, cagoule weather only fit for a visit
to Siracusa's excellent Archaeological Museum. Despite however the
immense range of treasures on display,
visitors are faced with no brochures to guide them through the
bewildering layout, surly and indifferent staff, and yet again the
infuriating 'no photography' signs; but in typically Sicilian style, the
attendants were too busy chatting in groups or playing with mobile
phones to bother visitors who were equally busy taking photos.
Despite all this, the displays were excellent: the geology,
palaeontology and pre-history of Sicily, including skeletons of the
dwarf elephants which developed in isolation on the island and whose
skulls are thought to be the origins of the one-eyed Cyclops legend;
Neolithic remains from Sicily's indigenous Sikel peoples, followed by
remains from the period of Greek colonisation. A new gallery
displayed finds from the Hellenistic and Roman periods, including the
renowned Aphrodite Anadiomene - Venus Rising from the Water - a
2nd century AD Roman copy of the Greek original (Photo 2). Our
return walk to catch the bus took us past the least harmonious and
over-prominent addition to the Syracusan skyline, the monstrous
Sanctuario della Madonna della Lacrime, built in the mid-90's to house a
statue reputed to have wept. And seeing the inverted cone rearing
skyward in her honour, it's not surprising that this Madonna wept.
Nearby however we found the more refined 17th century Church of Santa
Lucia, built on the spot where Siracusa's patron saint was martyred in
304 AD, and the palm-planted Piazza Santa Lucia (Photo 3).
On a
scorching Sunday morning, we again braved the obscurities of buses and
tickets to visit Siracusa's Archaeological
Park, the centrepiece of which is the magnificent Greek Theatre. We have
seen many ancient theatres, but this was one of the largest, cut into
the natural slope of the hill, with much of the limestone seating still
intact (Photo
4). The arena, seating originally 15,000 spectators, overlooks the
modern city and distant Great Harbour. Workmen were busy installing
stage assembly and wooden seating for the forthcoming season of
Classical tragedies productions. Nearby are the precipitous-sided
limestone quarries from which the stone to build the early city had been
extracted. Now you might say, so what? Readers of Thucydides will
however recall that the 7,000 Athenian survivors of the Great Expedition
debacle were punitively worked to death in these quarries. Paul's
undergraduate reading came alive, standing here in the floor of this
quarry prison, now planted with exotic trees (Photo 5). Syracuse
had been a notable early Christian centre, where the dead were buried in
catacombs hewn from the rock of former underground aqueducts. One of
these under the ruined basilica of San Giovanni can be visited. An
estimated 10,000 were buried in the gloomy network of passageways and
rotundas. Of all the places we have visited, this ranked among the most
uncanny.
Another
curiosity of Syracuse can be found just to the city's south: the tiny,
shallow river Ciane winds its sluggish 10 kms from its source to
the Great Harbour. Its significance however is of being the
only place nowadays in the Mediterranean where papyrus grows naturally.
What's papyrus? you'll probably ask. Well the thick fleshy stems of this
tall reed-like marsh plant, stripped of their green outer layer, and the
fibrous spongy white core sliced into strips, soaked and laid in 2
perpendicular layers, pressed and dried, made the ancient world's paper.
In a sense, the papyrus plant played as important a part in human
development as the wheel: the latter gave man mobility, while papyrus
enabled human kind to develop literacy and to express its higher
thoughts and to maintain commercial records more readily than on clay. Add
to these the domestication of animals, and cultivation of cereals, olives and the vine, and human civilisation came alive. In Siracusa,
there is a small
museum dedicated to the history, production and usages of papyrus; a
visit here is a must. In the ancient world, papyrus paper-making was
centred in the Nile delta in Egypt, and the plant was introduced to
Sicily as a gift to Syracuse from a Ptolemy. It's an unfathomable
mystery why growth of papyrus is confined to the tiny River Ciane, but
as we walked along its banks to the short river's source, there were the
papyrus plants growing in the shallow waters, its 10 feet high stems
topped with pom-poms of plumed leaves (Photo 6). The dappled
sunlight from overhanging trees gave the setting a peaceful
serenity, the papyrus' curious appearance doing justice to the plant's
significance for human civilisation. And by the river's mouth, we stood
by the Great Harbour at the spot where in 415 BC the Athenians had
beached their triremes - another evocative moment. It was a walk with a
difference, full of historical and botanical significance.
We left
Siracusa to continue northwards via the Pantalica Gorge, a mighty cleft
in the harshly wild high limestone plateau. The area had been settled by
the indigenous Sikels in the 12th
century BC, but what makes it unique is the necropolis of over 5,000
tombs which honeycomb the high limestone cliffs. It's a challenging
drive to reach Pantalica, but both the magnificent setting and its
curious history makes the effort worthwhile. It was a gloomy thunderous
day for our visit, giving the gorge and its necropolis an eerie
and almost primeval air, the sinister feeling only relieved by the
paradise of wild flora which lined the path down into the gorge. What a
contrast as we moved back down to the coast for that night's camp:
the horrendous mass of metal forming the Augusta oil refinery made Gela
seem almost restrained. At our campsite near the village of Brucoli, we
were greeted with a paradoxical sign 'Baia del Silenzio - Discotheque';
first impressions did not impress, but we found a flattish area of rocky
shoreline for a wind-swept camp, with the distant lights of Catania
twinkling on the northern skyline, our next port of call.
But before
that, we diverted 50 miles inland to the mountain-top town of Enna, a
visit squeezed out earlier by bad weather. The town is a formidable
sight, set at 1,000 feet above the surrounding plains, fortified and
besieged by successive occupying powers across history: whoever
held Enna strategically controlled central Sicily. And the old town gave
impressively panoramic views across the precipitous valley sides to the
hill-top village of Calascibetta perched similarly atop a mountain peak
opposite (Photo
7).
The
traffic around Catania was horrendous - viciously intimidating; if you
were looking for a reason to avoid Catania and move on directly to Etna,
this was certainly one of them. The rest of Sicily seems to share this
negative view of Sicily's 2nd city: a favourite piece of graffiti
ribaldry is Let's all go to Catania and burn it down. In fact
Etna almost achieved that in 1669 when a monumental eruption enveloped
the city with black
lava
adding an extra 2 kms to the coastline. The city also has the island's
worst record for street crime, so don't go unless you are well zipped
up and 'city-proofed'. Camping Jonio just north of the city was
expensive but welcoming, but we could only find 2 reasons for our visit
by bus to Catania: 1) to experience the renowned fish markets, and 2) to
get a decent fish lunch. We managed to achieve both in 1 day in Catania.
The Pesceria (fish market) was a sight to startle the imagination: a
fishy mayhem staggering in its intensity - stalls of wooden crates and
buckets, filled with every kind of fish and shellfish, from heaps of
tiny prawns to enormous tuna and sword-fish (pesce spada). Stall-holders
hacked and chopped and sliced for all they were worth, yelling at one
another in boisterous banter. There were buckets full of squid and
octopus and heaps of mussels and sea-urchins, and curious flat eels
looped over like silver foil. Bemused by all the noise and
hyper-activity, and bewildered by all the variety and quantities of
fish, we wandered among the stalls (Photo
8). Who would buy all this fish, and who would clear up the mess
when the market packed up? We achieved our 2nd objective in the same
market, finding the excellent value Antica Trattoria La Paglia della
Pesceria for our fishy lunch. And by the time we emerged, the market was
a different world: gone was all the produce, noise and activity; all
that was left were heaps of rubbish, boxes and fish waste, and Catania's
refuse staff hosing down the mess.
We concluded our time in Catania with 2
memorable experiences which would form a worthy prelude to the next
phase of the trip - our time on and around Etna, Europe's largest active
volcano. In Catania's cathedral, tucked away in a side chapel, we found the painting showing the devastating impact of the 1669 Etna
eruption, with black lava enveloping the city. Outside, looking north
along the aptly named Via Etna, there was the mighty snow-capped bulk of
Etna itself, looming ominously. Join us again in 2 weeks to share our
experiences on Etna.
Agriturist Rinauro, 4 kms south of
Siracusa, to travel by bus into what in our view was Sicily's most
attractive and historically significant city. Bus timetables and tickets
are however one of Sicily's great mysteries. You may believe there is a
bus at 10-30, but only time will tell; you may believe you can buy
tickets on the bus, but when the driver, he say 'Non', what do you do
but board anyway and hope an inspector doesn't get on. Buy enough
tickets for all your journeys at Tabacchi kiosks with signs ' Vendita
biglietti AST', and don't forget to validate them on the bus - if the machine works,
that is!
minute walk brought us up into Piazza Duomo, the
historic square surrounded by magnificent palazzi and dominated by the
over-ornate Baroque of Siracusa's Cathedral. This place has served as
holy ground for 3,000 years, having been a pre-Greek Sikel sanctuary, an
imposing Temple of Athena built in 480 BC, an early Christian basilica,
a mosque during the 9th century AD Saracen occupation, and finally
a Norman cathedral with Baroque frontage added after the 1693 earthquake.
And each era has left its visible traces. The later structures were
built around the framework of the Classical Temple of Athena, and in the
side street of Via Minerva, you see a sight to thrill even the dullest
imagination: there are the 5th century BC Doric columns built into the
outer wall of the Norman cathedral. Inside it's even more fascinating:
the Classical temple's inner cella walls had been pierced with
a
number of openings, leaving pillars of stonework, to form the
cathedral's nave, and the outer Doric colonnade, now half-engaged within
the Norman walls is clearly visible, distorted by the 1693 earthquake
showing how close the entire structure had been to collapse. Only the
frontage fell, to be replaced with the present Baroque façade which
dominates Piazza Duomo (Photo
1). We wandered happily among the narrow lanes of the medieval town,
over to the waterfront which looks out across the azure Ionian Sea
towards Italy and the Greek homeland. From here also we could look south
to the mouth of the Great Harbour which, in 413 BC, the Syracusans had
blocked with a barricade of ships, trapping the mighty Athenian armada
in the narrow confines of the bay, leading to humiliating naval defeat
and disaster for the whole expedition. It was an evocative moment,
gazing out at this moment of tragic history.
visitors are faced with no brochures to guide them through the
bewildering layout, surly and indifferent staff, and yet again the
infuriating 'no photography' signs; but in typically Sicilian style, the
attendants were too busy chatting in groups or playing with mobile
phones to bother visitors who were equally busy taking photos.
Despite all this, the displays were excellent: the geology,
palaeontology and pre-history of Sicily, including skeletons of the
dwarf elephants which developed in isolation on the island and whose
skulls are thought to be the origins of the one-eyed Cyclops legend;
Neolithic remains from Sicily's indigenous Sikel peoples, followed by
remains from the period of Greek colonisation. A new gallery
displayed finds from the Hellenistic and Roman periods, including the
renowned Aphrodite Anadiomene - Venus Rising from the Water - a
2nd century AD Roman copy of the Greek original (Photo 2). Our
return walk to catch the bus took us past the least harmonious and
over-prominent addition to the Syracusan skyline, the monstrous
Sanctuario della Madonna della Lacrime, built in the mid-90's to house a
statue reputed to have wept. And seeing the inverted cone rearing
skyward in her honour, it's not surprising that this Madonna wept.
Nearby however we found the more refined 17th century Church of Santa
Lucia, built on the spot where Siracusa's patron saint was martyred in
304 AD, and the palm-planted Piazza Santa Lucia (Photo 3).
much of the limestone seating still
intact (Photo
4). The arena, seating originally 15,000 spectators, overlooks the
modern city and distant Great Harbour. Workmen were busy installing
stage assembly and wooden seating for the forthcoming season of
Classical tragedies productions. Nearby are the precipitous-sided
limestone quarries from which the stone to build the early city had been
extracted. Now you might say, so what? Readers of Thucydides will
however recall that the 7,000 Athenian survivors of the Great Expedition
debacle were punitively worked to death in these quarries. Paul's
undergraduate reading came alive, standing here in the floor of this
quarry prison, now planted with exotic trees (Photo 5). Syracuse
had been a notable early Christian centre, where the dead were buried in
catacombs hewn from the rock of former underground aqueducts. One of
these under the ruined basilica of San Giovanni can be visited. An
estimated 10,000 were buried in the gloomy network of passageways and
rotundas. Of all the places we have visited, this ranked among the most
uncanny.
only place nowadays in the Mediterranean where papyrus grows naturally.
What's papyrus? you'll probably ask. Well the thick fleshy stems of this
tall reed-like marsh plant, stripped of their green outer layer, and the
fibrous spongy white core sliced into strips, soaked and laid in 2
perpendicular layers, pressed and dried, made the ancient world's paper.
In a sense, the papyrus plant played as important a part in human
development as the wheel: the latter gave man mobility, while papyrus
enabled human kind to develop literacy and to express its higher
thoughts and to maintain commercial records more readily than on clay. Add
to these the domestication of animals, and cultivation of cereals, olives and the vine, and human civilisation came alive. In Siracusa,
there is a s
mall
museum dedicated to the history, production and usages of papyrus; a
visit here is a must. In the ancient world, papyrus paper-making was
centred in the Nile delta in Egypt, and the plant was introduced to
Sicily as a gift to Syracuse from a Ptolemy. It's an unfathomable
mystery why growth of papyrus is confined to the tiny River Ciane, but
as we walked along its banks to the short river's source, there were the
papyrus plants growing in the shallow waters, its 10 feet high stems
topped with pom-poms of plumed leaves (Photo 6). The dappled
sunlight from overhanging trees gave the setting a peaceful
serenity, the papyrus' curious appearance doing justice to the plant's
significance for human civilisation. And by the river's mouth, we stood
by the Great Harbour at the spot where in 415 BC the Athenians had
beached their triremes - another evocative moment. It was a walk with a
difference, full of historical and botanical significance.
century BC, but what makes it unique is the necropolis of over 5,000
tombs which honeycomb the high limestone cliffs. It's a challenging
drive to reach Pantalica, but both the magnificent setting and its
curious history makes the effort worthwhile. It was a gloomy thunderous
day for our visit, giving the gorge and its necropolis an eerie
and almost primeval air, the sinister feeling only relieved by the
paradise of wild flora which lined the path down into the gorge. What a
contrast as we moved back down to the coast for that night's camp:
the horrendous mass of metal forming the Augusta oil refinery made Gela
seem almost restrained. At our campsite near the village of Brucoli, we
were greeted with a paradoxical sign 'Baia del Silenzio - Discotheque';
first impressions did not impress, but we found a flattish area of rocky
shoreline for a wind-swept camp, with the distant lights of Catania
twinkling on the northern skyline, our next port of call. 
lava
adding an extra 2 kms to the coastline. The city also has the island's
worst record for street crime, so don't go unless you are well zipped
up and 'city-proofed'. Camping Jonio just north of the city was
expensive but welcoming, but we could only find 2 reasons for our visit
by bus to Catania: 1) to experience the renowned fish markets, and 2) to
get a decent fish lunch. We managed to achieve both in 1 day in Catania.
The Pesceria (fish market) was a sight to startle the imagination: a
fishy mayhem staggering in its intensity - stalls of wooden crates and
buckets, filled with every kind of fish and shellfish, from heaps of
tiny prawns to enormous tuna and sword-fish (pesce spada). Stall-holders
hacked and chopped and sliced for all they were worth, yelling at one
another in boisterous banter. There were buckets full of squid and
octopus and heaps of mussels and sea-urchins, and curious flat eels
looped over like silver foil. Bemused by all the noise and
hyper-activity, and bewildered by all the variety and quantities of
fish, we wandered among the stalls (Photo
8). Who would buy all this fish, and who would clear up the mess
when the market packed up? We achieved our 2nd objective in the same
market, finding the excellent value Antica Trattoria La Paglia della
Pesceria for our fishy lunch. And by the time we emerged, the market was
a different world: gone was all the produce, noise and activity; all
that was left were heaps of rubbish, boxes and fish waste, and Catania's
refuse staff hosing down the mess.
